One Last Time
by SunnyBunny99
Summary: A series of Snape-focused headcanons. I will certainly write more if there an enough requests. Please Read, Review, Favorite and Follow if you enjoy it!


**One Last Time**

 **(Author's Note: I needed a bit of comfort, so…here it is.**

 **I own nothing of the Harry Potter Series.)**

The Potter house was far too quiet for Severus Snape's liking. He made sure to Apparate onto this street at least twice a week to check on the family—on the woman he loved—and it brought a certain joy to his heart to see warm, buttery golden light spilling from the windows every evening.

But tonight, there were no lights on and there was no sound from inside. Severus approached the front door and saw the lock blasted off, lying in a melted knot near the stoop. His heart lurched—only a very bold and very powerful spellcaster would dare break into another wizard's home with such force. Swallowing hard, he pushed open the door and almost immediately stumbled over a body.

Severus made himself look down; the watery moonlight washed over the face of James Potter, pale and wearing a blank mask of death. The black-cloaked Slytherin Headmaster felt nothing as he studied James—certainly not sadness, but strangely there was no glee in seeing his old school bully lifeless on the floor at his feet. Perhaps it was because James was not the one who he was concerned for.

Setting his jaw, Severus stepped over James's body and swept down the dark, narrow hall. The nursery loomed ahead, its door broken and sagging against the wall. Severus saw something inside and stumbled forward over the threshold. Instantly the breath was slammed from his lungs as he beheld Lily Evans Potter, facedown on the floor with one slender arm flung over her head, her head turned towards him and pale blue eyes glassy and empty.

Gasping, Snape collapsed against the wall as he felt the last vestiges of hope crumble to bitter ash. "No," he wheezed, crawling towards Lily, "no, no, no…" Hot tears welled in his eyes; and then, gently, he did the unthinkable, something he had longed to do all his life but never dared; he wrapped Lily in his arms and drew her close, pressing her cheek to his chest and tangling his fingers in her long, thick red hair, stroking it. She was so soft, so small, so beautiful and bright…but now she was cold and dead. And he could have prevented it. Clutching his beloved tighter, Severus loosed a loud, keening wail that would have put a banshee to shame.

Severus Snape knelt there in the nursery of the Potter house, held Lily and wept for half an hour. He was so blinded by grief and pain that he didn't even notice the tiny baby boy sitting in the crib nearby, staring silently at him with a pair of huge, shockingly blue eyes and a fresh red lightning-shaped cut on his forehead.

 **(Author's Note: Fifty points to the House of the reader who can spot the Hamilton reference I made in this segment!)**

Snape lay silently in his bedchamber, sleepless, studying the spiderwebbing pattern of cracks in the domed stone ceiling. Restlessness flowed through his veins; no matter how much he twisted and turned it did not abate. Not that he had ever been a good sleeper—at least not since…

Suddenly nauseous, the Potions Master sat up, threw aside his bedcovers and slid out of the large four-poster with its deep green velvet canopy and silver-sewn comforter. He slipped on his Manx Cat fur moccasins, took his wand in hand and set out. Moving like a tall shadow, he passed through the boys' dormitory and into the Slytherin common room with its lavish black leather couches, thick dark rugs and eerie green lanterns burning overhead.

But Severus knew where he was headed; Dumbledore himself had informed him in casual conversation. It had been itching madly in the back of his mind since then, causing his concentration to wander and making his temper even shorter and hotter than before. " _Lumos_ ," he muttered, flicking his stiff 14-inch blackthorn wand. Its dragon heartstring core never failed to give him flamboyant—and sometimes explosive—results. The tip of his wand burst to life, creating a nearly blinding bluish-white halo of light around him and making the paintings sleeping on the walls squint and complain about the brightness.

Up, up, up still he went, padding lightly and moving swiftly as not to disturb anyone. On the landing of the moving staircases he heard an odd shuffling behind him, followed by a hand grabbing his cloak and a garbled voice yelling, "Ha! Gotcha!"

Snape whirled around to find himself staring down into the craggy face of Argus Filch. Mrs. Norris prowled around them, her matted tail swishing and dull yellow eyes gleaming hungrily. Upon realizing who it was that he had nabbed, the old man let go and shrunk back, muttering apologetically, "Oh, Professor Snape…! Sorry, sir, didn't know it was you. Thought maybe some prefect had decided to sneak out an' meet somebody for a snog or somethin'…"

"It's alright, Argus," growled the Head of Slytherin House, wrapping his cloak more snugly around his frame. "I understand you're doing your duty. I'll see you around." Without further ado he turned neatly on his heel and marched away, up the stairs.

Seven floors up Severus finally reached the top and paused, drawing the cool night air deep into his lungs and letting his pulse slow down. Up ahead, bathed in the glow of his wand, was the tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy. "Hullo, Professor!" the tapestry greeted him as he drew near. "What may I assist you with this fine evening?"

"You're a piece of cloth—I doubt you could do much at all," Snape grumbled, eyeing him. "But I'm going into the Room of Requirements."

"By all means, be my guest!" Barnabas responded cheerily. "You know how to get in. What are you using it for?"

"That is none of your concern." Severus made his deep voice as cold as possible. Turning away from the tapestry, he closed his eyes and began to pace in front of the doorway. Three times he turned and walked back and forth, hands clasped behind him and his head bowed.

 _I need to see my love,_ he thought desperately. _I need to see my love…I_ _ **need**_ _to see my love._

The lock clicked and the door swung open; gratefully Severus stepped inside and shut it behind him. He stood there for a long moment, not daring to turn around because he knew that what he saw when he did was sure to undo him. But longing eventually trumped fear, and mechanically Severus's feet turned his body to face the other way, facing into the room.

Upon opening his eyes, Severus Snape found himself gazing at Lily Evans Potter. She blinked back at him, a tiny and wistful sort of smile playing on her full lips. A shuddering sigh escaped Severus; she was every bit as perfect as he remembered her. With sweat forming on his brow and upper lip, he cautiously stepped closer—Lily did the same. Nearer and nearer they drew to each other until Severus could bear it no longer and reached out, his hands seeking the softness of her face.

But his fingertips only stubbed against glass and Lily skirted back with a playful smirk. Severus hissed a vile curse—surely the Mirror of Erised was the world's greatest temptation. Trembling now, he looked pleadingly up into Lily's sparkling blue eyes, seemingly only inches away from his own black ones. "Lily," he breathed.

With a smile his love stepped closer; Severus gripped the gilded edges of the mirror with both hands and tipped his head forward until his brow met the chilled glass. On the other side, the Mirror mirrored his action with Lily's appearance. The two stood with foreheads together on opposite sides of the barrier, staring deep into the other's eyes; Snape felt like drowning in those clear sea-blue orbs. "Lily," he repeated brokenly, his velvety baritone hoarse now. His breath made a patch of fog as he exhaled slowly.

Lily smiled, and almost unconsciously Severus tilted his head down and sideways to press his lips against the glass where hers would be. He knew all too well that she wasn't even there, that the Mirror was merely reflecting an image of his heart's deepest desire, but he was determined to wallow in this blissful fantasy for as long as he could. If only she could speak to him, tell him the three words he most longed to hear from her, he would consider himself as happy as he could be in this life.

But she did not speak, merely smiled and blinked. And Severus eventually sat at her feet, leaning one shoulder against the frame of the Mirror and staring plaintively up at her like a devoted dog gazes lovingly at its master. He drank in every feature anew, especially those eyes. They still haunted his dreams—he recalled the way they used to sparkle when she laughed, flash in her anger and their frightful, dead emptiness that horrible night everything changed. Every day he was forced to look into them during Potions class…Lily Evans Potter's eyes set into the face of the man he had hated the most. Harry Potter had been cursed with both a scar and his mother's eyes.

But perhaps it wasn't all so bad after all.

 _At least I get to keep her eyes in my life_ , Snape thought sleepily.

 **(Author's Note: This is how I much would have preferred the scene in the Shrieking Shack to go…)**

"You have been a good and faithful servant, Severus…but only I can live forever."

Voldemort's raspy voice jerked Severus back to reality. He swayed slightly, blinking at the thin, white-skinned man with the nostrils of a snake. The fire in the braziers crackled as outside, thunder rumbled. Severus hoped Potter would be able to destroy the final Horcrux soon. But it certainly wouldn't be soon enough for him, because those words sounded far too ominous, and Voldemort didn't tend to let anyone live—not even his allies.

"What—" Severus began, but staggered as Voldemort slashed the Elder Wand viciously through the air, casting a silent spell which opened a massive gash from his right shoulder to his left hip. He fell back against the flimsy stained glass window as he felt warm blood begin to pour out of the wound; in his peripheral vision he saw Voldemort step back and nod to the huge viper slithering out from a corner.

"Nagini, kill."

Severus's fingers tightened around his own wand just as Nagini reared back to strike. " _Vipera Evanesca_!" he roared, flinging a blast of golden fire at the Dark Lord's pet snake. The hex hit Nagini square between the eyes and it hissed in pain, flying back and then disintegrating into a heap of ash. The Potions Master had no idea, but he had just destroyed the final Horcrux.

Enraged but already feeling weakness setting in, Voldemort hefted the Elder Wand and jabbed it at Severus—" _Avada Kedavara_!"

" _Avada Kedavara_ ," Snape gasped in unison, pointing his own wand in the Dark Lord's direction.

Vivid green flares blasted from the ends of both wands, colliding with a mighty explosion which rattled the windows of the Shrieking Shack and swept Nagini's ashes away in a billowing brown cloud. For five seconds Voldemort held the Elder Wand aloft, his face drawn and paler than usual and his slitted nostrils flaring in fury. Then, as his strength drained, he dropped it—it flew upwards and vaguely Snape remembered reaching up to catch it. Slumped against the wall, he watched silently as the Dark Lord staggered and wheezed for breath that was no longer there; a fierce satisfaction bubbled up in Severus to see his "Master" fall apart in a column of dust.

 _So it was never the Potter boy,_ Severus thought with detached amusement.

"Professor!" Speak of the Devil—here came Harry, dashing in with his two Gryffindor cohorts on his heels. "Sir, what happened? Are you alright?!"

"He just killed You-Know-Who!" Ron exclaimed dumbly.

Snape grunted, once more aware of his lifeblood dripping down his stomach. "This is not the time to discuss," he growled. "He cut me…Miss Granger—a Healing Spell…"

Hermione crouched at his side and pulled out her wand. "Right," she said, sounding nervous. "Uh, Professor…could I please…?" She motioned to the area of the wound.

Wordlessly Snape fumbled with the buttons of his traditional black coat, finally freeing it. He didn't bother to unbutton the white silkworm-spun shirt beneath; one violent tear popped all the buttons off and bared his injury for the three students to see. Ron gagged and turned away while Harry turned white; Hermione, being the steadiest-minded of the trio, took a deep breath and gently set the tip of her wand next to the deep, ugly gash, which was still dribbling bright red blood. " _Vulnera Sanentur_ ," she intoned.

Severus gasped aloud in relief as the wound closed, followed by a slight itching as the muscle and fibers beneath his skin knitted back together. He let his head fall back against the stone wall, looking at the Gryffindor girl through hooded eyelids. "Miss Granger," he mumbled.

"Yes, sir?" Hermione was still on edge, obviously expecting some sort of chiding.

"Thank you for your assistance. And for what it's worth…one hundred points to Gryffindor."

Hermione laughed weakly, clearly relieved and surprised. "It's nothing I wouldn't do for anyone else, sir," she answered modestly.

"I'm sure." Snape eased himself into a sitting position, then shifted onto one knee and heaved up and onto his feet. Usually he felt so comfortingly intimidating standing at a towering six feet and one inch, but now he was slightly embarrassed—he looked a complete mess, with torn clothes rumpled and covered in dust, ash and blood, shaggy hair tangled in a wild black mop, gaunt face even paler than usual and his sharp dark eyes unfocused. "Ugh, how wretched," he grumbled. "If you didn't look carefully, you could mistake me for Sirius Black."

Harry couldn't help but give a short, dry little chuckle at that. Snape attempted to brush his clothes off and straighten them as best as possible, but it didn't do much good. At last he sighed deeply, his arms falling to his side. "Well, it would seem that our battle is over now," he rumbled quietly. "Let's return to the school and join the others."

The three students filed out of the Shrieking Shack and Snape followed, but before he crossed the threshold the Head of Slytherin House paused to look back over his shoulder at the heap of ashes that used to be Voldemort.

"That was for Lily, you bastard," he snarled quietly.

 **The End**


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